


Pythagoras, Not Just Another Pretty Face

by raskin



Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: Dialogue, Endearments, First Kiss, Heavy Fluff, Light Angst, Love, M/M, Post-Battle, Pre-Slash, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 11:42:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1897680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raskin/pseuds/raskin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Jason lies critically wounded against the rock, Pythagoras stands over him and raises a sword to hold off an entire horde of attacking Scythians.  Is it any wonder Jason now sees Pythagoras in a new role, as his champion protector?</p><p>He just hopes Py can accept this shift in their relationship.</p><p>This follows S1E10, "The Price of Hope".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pythagoras, Not Just Another Pretty Face

**Author's Note:**

> Because I love Robert Emms.

Jason glanced around the room, checking that everything was ready. The candles were lit, the goblets were filled, and the first course was plated and arranged on the picnic rug in the middle of the room. It would have been more romantic on the rooftop, but tonight the clouds would obscure the sunset, and there was a threat of rain. He didn’t want to risk any atmospheric interruption, not tonight.

He ran a hand over his chin to make sure it was smooth, and lifted the front of his tunic for a sniff, to make sure he smelled sweet. None too soon, as it turned out, for just then there was a tell-tale rustling at the door. He rushed over, pulling it open for a struggling Pythagoras, whose arms were full of scrolls. Jason steadied him awkwardly, then stepped aside.

“Thank you for that. The librarian agreed to let me bring these home, but I’ve got to have them back tonight, or first thing in the morning if the rain doesn’t hold off –” Pythagoras’s voice faded and his eyes widened at the sight of the picnic in the middle of the room. “What’s this? Oh, dear. You’re expecting company, and here’s me barging in.”

“Er, no, actually. This is for –”

“I can - yes - go back to the library. It’s just that it’s so bloody cold in there, but no worries. Just let me grab a cloak, and then I’ll be out of your way…” Py seemed rather flummoxed. He gave Jason a searching look, which seemed to hold confusion and something else. Disappointment? Hurt? And then he turned away. He went to the table, which had been pushed off to the side of the room, and dumped the scrolls in a jumbled heap. When he hurried towards the bedroom, he looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here. 

Moving quickly, Jason caught him by the arm. “You don’t have to go, Py, for pity’s sake.”

“Nonsense. A cart doesn’t need a fifth wheel, as the saying goes.” Pythagoras had no choice but to stop, with Jason now blocking his path, but he seemed determined to clear out. He forced a laugh, and perhaps trying to channel Hercules, said, “I want details when I return. In the morning?”

“This is for you, you dolt.” Jason couldn’t imagine what had put the idea in his head that the expected guest was anyone other than Py himself. He put his hands on Pythagoras’s shoulders and turned him gently to view his preparations. “I wanted to surprise you. And it seems I have.”

“You went to all this trouble for me?” Pythagoras’s eyes, round with wonder, roamed around the room, taking it all in and adjusting emotionally to Jason’s disclosure. Finally, one corner of his mouth rose in a half-smile, while his brow knitted in confusion. “Whatever is this all about? Are you dying? Am _I_ dying?”

Relieved, Jason laughed at this, their regular joke whenever they did something extra nice for each other. “Not tonight, although you never know when I cook, do you.”

Pythagoras smiled fully now, captivating Jason as usual. When he turned his eyes to Jason’s, though, the smile faltered a bit as he processed what he saw there. “Jason…?”

“Listen, I…” Jason tried to swallow, but his mouth was suddenly quite dry. He’d been practicing what to say, had a speech ready, but now the words eluded him. “You see, Pythagoras, I wanted to…”

“Yes?”

Jason concentrated on keeping his hands from stroking down Py’s arms. “Well, one reason for doing this is a small way of saying thank you for saving my life.”

“Which time?” Pythagoras deadpanned.

Jason couldn't help but laugh. "Good point. Come, let’s eat first, then I’ll tell you about it,” he said, then took a deep, nervous breath. 

*** 

Jason sank to the ground, clutching his thigh and struggling to breathe. He didn’t need to see the blood to know he’d been gravely injured in the one-man ambush. Possibly fatal, maybe only critical, the important thing was that the wound was going to take him out of the mix when the main group of bad guys found them. Unable to fight. Unable to protect Pythagoras. And that was worse than death itself.

Pythagoras knelt by his side, pressing a hand to the wound, his eyes wide with distress. His mouth opened to speak, then snapped shut grimly.

“I think,” Jason gasped through the pain, “that I’m gonna have to sit this one out.” _Oh, and by the way, I love you,_ he wanted to add, because he might not have the chance ever again.

Then the pound of feet and the battle cries from the attackers took away that opportunity. They numbered at least a dozen, overwhelming odds even if Jason had been able to lift a weapon.

But now there was only Pythagoras.

Who had risen to his feet. Found a sword. Raised it level with his shoulder. Held it steady. Shouted at the bastards, while Jason looked on in awe. 

The next thing he knew, all the attackers were dead. It didn’t matter to him that they were felled by the arrows of Atalanta rather than Py’s sword. Before the shock from pain and loss of blood pulled him into blackness, he felt Pythagoras’s arm around him, providing all the comfort Jason could want. In the dream-filled hours that followed, while his wound responded to Atalanta’s treatment, he saw only Pythagoras standing between him and the Scythians, sword in hand, unwavering and undaunted by the odds. Protecting him, valiant and beautiful. In that moment, Pythagoras had the bearing of a god. 

*** 

“Bollocks,” Pythagoras scoffed. “You, my friend, have quite misremembered it.”

“Perhaps.” Jason wasn’t fussed about the details. 

“I’m sure I could barely lift the sword waist-high with both hands, and even then it was shaking like a divining rod over an aquifer.”

“You were wonderful.”

“Oh, yes. Pointing out to the Scythians that I’m weak, and small, and skinny. Didn’t that just put the fear of the gods in them.” Pythagoras nudged a berry around the bottom of the bowl, the picked it up and raised it towards his mouth. “You were stupid to have faith in me. As if I could hold off one man, much less a whole band of thugs.”

Jason, bolder from the wine now, pulled Py’s hand to his mouth and with his lips plucked the berry from his fingers. Smiling at the look of shock his gesture created, said, “You were glorious.” 

Pythagoras’s eyebrows flew high, and his jaw dropped. Then he looked away, swallowed once or twice, and said, “Yes, well, whatever you say, we’d both be dead if we hadn’t been rescued. It wasn’t as if I saved us or anything.”

“That’s not what’s important. I’m talking about your courage, facing danger like that, being afraid and still making a stand.” 

“You should know. You’re always jumping to someone’s aid.”

“But that’s exactly it. I jump in. I react. I don’t _think_ about what I’m facing. Largely because I haven’t a clue how this world works. I still don’t know how I do what I do…”

Pythagoras opened his mouth to speak, but Jason cut him off. “Wait, this isn’t supposed to be about me.” 

Py showed no interest in making it about himself, and changed the subject. “I need to ask, will I be expected to do this for you every time you save me? A full-time job, that will be. Anyway, let me clear this up while you relax.” He began collecting the empty dishes. 

“If you want,” Jason acquiesced. He went to the open window in the bedroom and watched the rain wash the street below. There was loud thunder now, and bright flashes of lightening, closer together. The heart of the storm was almost directly overhead. Jason loved a good thunderstorm; it was somehow soothing, despite its violence. He continued admiring the drama outside and waited.

“Standing here in the dark, are you?” Pythagoras joined him at the window, and stuck his head out between the open shutters for just long enough to get spattered by wind-driven rain. 

“Better way to appreciate the pyrotechnics.” Jason could feel the fabric of Py’s tunic brush against his bare arm.

“I guess I won’t be returning the scrolls tonight, not in this.”

That wasn’t such a good sign. Was it only the inclement weather that kept Py home for now? Then it occurred to Jason that Py might decide to study the scrolls by candlelight. True, finding a cure for Medusa’s tragic condition, and easing Hercules’ torment, was vital. But not tonight; please, not tonight.

“So, anyway,” Pythagoras was saying, “thank you for dinner, but it wasn’t really necessary. Surprisingly tasty, but not necessary. Whatever debt you think you owed me, well… I’d say we might be better off not keeping score.”

“That suits me just fine. There’s no guarantee that I won’t get us into more sticky situations. But I know that I for one will make it through anything, as long as you continue to be my champion protector.”

“Jason, what in the world are you on about? I’m no hero.”

“You are to me.” If only Pythagoras could see himself the way Jason saw him. 

“Seriously, you’ve got the wrong man. You really mustn’t count on a chickenshit like me to –”

Py’s protestations were interrupted by a huge crack of a thunder and a simultaneous flash of lightening right outside their window. Jason jumped out of his sandals; Pythagoras did, too. And when the echoes of the thunderclap on the city’s stone walls had faded away, it was Pythagoras who had his arms wrapped around Jason. Protectively. Unmistakably so.

Jason craned his head around and smirked at Pythagoras. “You were saying…?”

Pythagoras made as if to pull away, but Jason held his arm tight to his chest and nestled back against his friend. After a stiff, awkward pause, Pythagoras sighed and – amazingly – rested his cheek against the side of Jason’s head. “I don’t know what made me do that.”

 _“I_ do.” If only he could get Pythagoras to realize it, too.

They stood in that embrace for some time, watching the storm pass over the city. When things quieted down, Py cleared his throat. “You know, in that moment, when you were lying there injured and I was standing there holding that sword, I had a lot of thoughts swirling through my skull.”

“I can only imagine,” Jason prompted him.

“But crowding out all of them and overwhelming me in that moment, was that I would be sad to die.”

“Sad?”

“Yes. Sad that it was over, this wild journey I’d been on since you dropped into my life. And anger, as if it the attackers were interrupting a beloved story before I had a chance to hear the end.” 

Jason gave a short laugh. “Wow, I knew your brain functioned at a different speed from a mere mortal’s, but that’s quite a poetic thought to be having in such a bang-bang situation…”

“Oh, well, you know, they were just impressions at the time; I’m just articulating after the fact how I _felt.”_

“Understood.”

“Anyway, that included regret for all the things that I didn’t say, and things I wished I’d done, but hadn’t.” 

Jason nodded, then tipped his head back into the crook of Pythagoras’s neck. “That reminds me of a line from some essay or other we had to read at school. It went something like this. _Courage is a strong desire to live, taking the form of a readiness to die.”_ * 

“A wise man, whoever wrote that. It rather explains how soldiers throughout the ages have gone roaring into battle, even when death is all but sure.” 

Jason hoped the conversation wasn’t about to turn completely philosophical, not when there were more immediate, physical aspects to be explored. 

“Yes,” Pythagoras continued, “even though I was resigned to the inevitability of death, I still prayed for a second chance...”

Jason took his time in responding to this perfect opening. “And now that you have it – your second chance – are you making the most of it?”

There was no light to see if Pythagoras was blushing, but his stammer gave him away. “Well, I mean, I… When the time is right, I’ll… It’s just that…”

“Maybe you need some encouragement,” Jason said, and shifted around until they were standing chest to chest. He wrapped his arms around Py’s slim waist. “How’s this for a start?”

Pythagoras didn’t seem to be encouraged. His back stiffened, and his breathing stopped. His arms remained around Jason’s shoulders, but they were tense and fixed.

“Fine,” Jason bluffed, dropping his hold and making to step back. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here to –”

Pythagoras, wonderful Pythagoras, gathered Jason back against him and bobbed forward for a kiss that was both tentative and determined. Truth be told, it was a bit awkward, as his lips landed half on Jason’s mouth and half on his cheek, but he made a swift correction and then it was anything but awkward. His soft, plush lips brushed side to side, then centered in. 

Jason groaned as a tongue dragged across his lower lip, begging for entrance. His lips fell open, allowing it in, meeting it with his own tongue. He was glad there was no illumination in the room; it was all touch and taste and sound, their tongues sliding together, the tang of berries, their whimpers and ragged breathing. It was oh so perfect.

In Jason’s few encounters of this sort, he had always been the one who took the lead. Now he found it remarkably easy to simply be receptive. Especially considering that he was in such good hands; Pythagoras knew what he was doing.

“Jason, I don't know what I'm doing.” Pythagoras pulled back and laid his forehead against Jason’s.

Jason chuckled. “Could've fooled me. Tell me you’ve never thought about this.”

Pythagoras cleared his throat, and in a sheepish voice confessed, “Uhm, I cannot. But I rather pictured it different to the way this is going.”

Jason rested in Py’s arms and stroked the long back, thinking that this man wasn’t all that skinny, or weak, or small… He wouldn’t share this observation with Pythagoras, though, and instead just enjoyed being coddled. “How do you like this set-up?” 

Py gave it some thought, all the while mapping out the contours of Jason’s upper back with his fingertips. Then he said, “It might take some getting used to, to be honest. I just never imagined myself as… As the one who…”

“I think it feels perfectly natural, and I like it.” Jason nuzzled Py’s jaw with his lips. “But you can take as much time as you need to get used to it.”

Pythagoras responded by finding Jason’s mouth once more with his own.

A long moment later, when they were catching their breaths, cheek against cheek, Jason said, “Can I tell you something? I don’t think I’ve ever had someone just _hold_ me like this, much less… Well, you know.” 

“Never?” 

“Never.”

“Never, _ever?”_

“Uhm, Py? Are you asking what I think you’re asking?”

“Maybe,” Pythagoras said with a soft laugh. The sound of it was dear to Jason under any circumstances, but he loved it especially when it came from lips pressed against his neck. 

“No,” Jason said, “never been held like this. Never had anyone kiss me, certainly not like you did. Never had anyone take me to their bed. Never –”

Pythagoras seemed a bit agitated when he cut Jason off. “OK, OK, I can extrapolate from there.” But then he showed how well he was adjusting to the new dynamic between them. He tightened his hold around Jason and walked backwards to the bed, then laid him gently on the mattress. After curling up beside him, his arm slipping quite naturally under Jason's head, he said, “Tell me, are you planning to put our lives at risk anytime soon?”

Jason could only laugh. “What?”

“It’s just that I don’t want to lose the opportunity to keep whittling away at my list of things to do before I die,” murmured Pythagoras, “but I want us to be able to take our time. I want this, _this,_ to last.”

Jason was utterly content with their cuddling, and was in no rush. “I’m all for that. But just how long is that list?” Jason asked, letting his smile come through in his voice. 

“Quite extensive, and the more I touch you, the more items I add to it,” Pythagoras said. 

“I think we’re safe for the time being. The biggest risk we face is Hercules coming home too soon.”

“I was rather wondering what he was up to tonight…”

“Well, I paid the tavern staff to slowly dole out drinks to him all night, but my coin won’t last forever.”

“I see you thought of everything!” Pythagoras had a good laugh at this before blurting out, _“Oh,_ how I love you!”

Jason couldn’t help himself. His heart was nearly bursting when he abruptly shifted onto his side and faced Pythagoras. He wished there was light enough to see Py's expression, though he really didn't need visual confirmation that Py was feeling just as awestruck as he was. After they shared oxygen for several breaths, Jason asked, “Is that from your list of things to say if you were given a second chance?”

“That,” Pythagoras said, kissing him again, “was the _only_ thing on that list.”

. 

. 

. 

. 

* G. K. Chesterton, _Orthodoxy_ (1908)


End file.
